Hollowed (Half Light)

by Kelley York

  "Where is he?" Fred asks.

  "You're cutting out. Guess the reception in those tunnels ain't so good? Keep moving forward. I'm waitin' for you guys."

  "Joel!"

  "One more thing. Bunny, your sister says 'hello.'"

  The line goes dead. This time I'm ready to smash it into the wall. Fred yanks it from my grip with a curse and tries dialing out again. Doesn't take a genius to know that Joel won't answer.

  I'm going to be sick. If I didn't feel claustrophobic before, I sure as hell do now. The walls are suffocating. Noah, Oliver and Fred...all too close. Joel has Ruby. Like I was afraid of. We were too slow.

  I push by the boys to keep moving. Joel said he was waiting for us, and I'm not going to waste anymore time.

  Oliver calls after me. I ignore him. I hear footsteps hurrying to catch up, a hand grabbing my arm—but it isn't Oliver, it's Noah. He pulls me around to face him.

  "Hey, you need to stop for a second so we can figure things out."

  "What is there to figure out? Joel has my sister. I'm going to rescue her." I jerk my arm out of his grip, trying to turn away. This time when he grabs me, it's to push me against the wall and hold me there.

  "You aren't thinking. Why would Joel keep Ruby hostage, huh? It doesn't make any sense. If he wanted her dead, she would be by now."

  Whatever he's implying, I don't think I like it. God, I want to punch him in the mouth and make him shut up! What does it matter whether Joel has her or not? So long as he's a threat, he has to be dealt with. I push at Noah, but he doesn't budge. "Right. Enlighten me, all-knowing one. What the hell is he doing?"

  Noah scowls. The places where his fingers dig into my arms are starting to throb, but he doesn't ease up. "Either he's lying and he doesn't have her at all...or he does, and they're working together."

  "Oh, of all the stupid shit—" I shove him again, harder this time, enough to push him back against the opposite wall and rip his grip off of me. "You can't for once think Ruby might be the victim in this, can you? We've pissed Joel off. That's all the reason he needs to keep her hostage. He knows it'll get to me. But you know what? Whatever. Sitting around here figuring things out isn't going to get me anywhere." Talking. That's all it seems we've been doing, and I can't fight on my own; I need the boys. But if they want to stand around 'figuring things out,' then whatever.

  Noah doesn't try to restrain me when I walk away this time. More importantly, the three of them follow, and that's all I could have hoped for.

  Within minutes we're out of the narrow tunnels again. We have to duck through a hole in a brick wall to continue further. This room feels more lived in. Directly overhead is a light bulb hanging from a cable running the length of the ceiling. I follow it to the wall and find a switch. The string of lights flickers to life, flooding the room in a gloomy yellow glow.

  We're in some kind of basement, for a warehouse, maybe. It stretches out on all sides of us with abandoned crates and broken chunks of machinery littering the floors, and an old water heater in the corner. The only way out is the way we came, and a set of stairs on the opposite side.

  On those stairs stands Joel, smiling triumphantly. Which wouldn't seem so daunting except for the people in the room standing between us and him.

  That tickle in the back of my mind, the feeling of their presences...it was them. Ten, eleven... A dozen, all together. Some my age, some older. The youngest can't be any more than thirteen. They watch me and the boys with their hungry dark eyes, waiting. For us to attack, for Joel to give the command, I'm not sure.

  This is the family Joel has been building. The people he deemed worthy to join him.

  "Took you guys long enough," he drawls. "The kids here were all sorts of excited to see you."

  Oliver and Noah are at my sides. In unison they shift forward to nudge me behind them. I can feel Fred at my back, his tension and anger rolling over my skin and making it prickle. More than any of that...I'm hyper aware of Noah's gun tucked against the small of my back. Wondering if I would be a good enough shot to take out Joel from this distance. I can't find the confidence to risk it.

  "I'd say you've officially screwed any chance you had at getting out of this," Oliver says. "This many new vampires, killing Maverick? How much deeper do you want to dig your own grave?"

  Joel scoffs. "Please. There are four of you and how many of mine? Once you've been taken care of, no one will have any proof I did anything."

  I watch as Noah discreetly slides a hand across his hip, reaching for the gun holstered against his back. "Four of us against a bunch of newly turned vampires? Quality over quantity, Joel. You're stupider than I thought."

  There's something in the way Joel smiles that makes me break out into a cold sweat. "Young vampires, yeah."

  As he speaks, the youngest of the group—the thirteen-year-old boy—launches himself forward so fast none of us have time to react. He slams head-long into Oliver, sending him flying back into the wall, where he slides and crumples to the ground.

  Joel laughs. "But they're young vampires who've had nothing but vampire blood since the day they were turned."

  I rush to Oliver's side, gripping his arm as he wheezes and struggles to stand. He leans into me and pushes to his feet as I whisper, "What does that mean?"

  "It means," Oliver growls, "he's sentenced them all to die."

  Fred's face is pale, his expression drawn as he surveys the boy that hit Oliver. The boy bounds back a few feet, bouncing on the balls of his feet like he's itching to attack again. "They're faster, stronger, quicker to heal...and they're insane. A vampire can feed off another vampire once in awhile for the extra boost, but giving them nothing but when they're this young? He's completely ruined them. Their systems wouldn't know what to do with human blood now."

  The boy rocks from foot to foot, anxious and smiling wide. Like we're getting ready to play hide-and-seek and not like he's poised to tear our throats out. The wall of people standing between us and Joel is a lot scarier than it was two minutes ago.

  "Question," Noah calls. "How does one vampire feed fourteen new vampires with their own blood without bleeding themselves dry?"

  Joel doesn't look at him. In fact, his dark eyes lock with mine while he grins, all teeth. "They don't."

  It isn't his words, it's that look. Instantly, I know. And the knowledge swirls through my insides, leaving a sour taste on my tongue. "You gave them Ruby."

  Joel's shark-smile widens. "Have fun, kiddos." He disappears through the exit at the top of the stairs. The second the door slams shut, the vampires are on us.

  32. Sunday – 11:14pm

  I'm going to kill Joel. Tear him into itty bitty pieces. Make what he did to Alex look like nothing. Except as I dash across the room, I have a hoard of vampires to contend with first. The boy lunges for me. Before I can throw him off, his teeth sink into my skin, grazing off my collarbone, sending white-hot currents of pain to the tips of my nerves.

  Screaming, my fingers tangle into his hair. For a brief second I forget that this is only a child, because I remember the feel of Joel tearing into my throat like a wild animal, because all I want is to get him off me. I yank his head back and he goes, blood running down his face, down my front, soaking my shirt. As hard as I can, I throw him aside.

  Another solid body slams into me from behind. I barely catch myself on the ground with my hands rather than my face. An older guy towers over me, a lead pipe raised, ready to bring it down. I pitch myself to one side. The pipe cracks the cement, chips of concrete flying.

  That could have been me.

  He begins to raise it again. I slam the heel of my boot into the end of the pipe with as much strength as I can get behind it. The other end drives into his chin with a definitive crack of bone. While he rears back with a howl, I crawl to my feet and try to run.

  I get glimpses of the boys; Fred is surrounded in the corner with a vampire at his feet and two others coming at him. Noah is running in my direction, and Oliver—

&nb
sp; An arm locks around my neck and squeezes, lifting me up off the ground. I choke in a breath, nails digging into the slender hand and wrist. A woman, not even taller than me. But her grip is iron and the lack of air is making it hard to think. I try shoving her back against the stairway railing and she doesn't even budge.

  Just as quickly as it came, the arm vanishes, and a hand grabs my shoulder to jerk me around. Still trying to catch my breath, I nearly hit Oliver square in the face.

  He steadies me to keep me from toppling over with my own momentum. For a second, I forget about the fight, and about Ruby, because I realize I can't just leave my friends here to fight a battle we might not be able to win. All for what? So I can chase after Joel by myself? What would I do when I found him?

  Oliver's mouth draws into a thin line. Noah comes skidding to a halt and Oliver steps aside, shoving me at him.

  "Take care of her. Go find Joel."

  Without another word, he spins away to face the vampires coming at us, leaving Noah to drag me up the stairs.

  "We can't—"

  "They have it covered," Noah insists. He slams one broad shoulder into the door. The worn wood splits and cracks and he shoves it open. I find myself hauled through it, nearly stumbling. Behind us he swings the door shut. He yanks something—a marker?—out of his jacket and begins to draw.

  All I can do is stare. I could swear that from this angle, there is a vivid silver light flashing in his eyes. I remember the symbol he made on the archives at the cemetery, the one he said would keep Joel locked out. I can only guess that this is the same spell. Sure enough, something angry slams into the other side of the door just as Noah finishes, and I wait for it to swing open, for something to lunge out at us.

  But the door holds under whatever abuse the vampire behind it is putting it through. I grab Noah's arm.

  "We can't leave Oliver and Fred trapped in there with them!"

  He carefully pries off my fingers and ushers me along. "They'll be fine. Besides, they have another way out."

  The way we came, yeah. Somehow taking their fight into the city's underground, in complete darkness, doesn't strike me as brilliant. I bite my lower lip. Oliver told me to go. He was probably worried about me getting in the way.

  Noah takes my elbow and begins leading me across the little room we've ended up in. Still no windows, and only a single door. Some kind of supply room judging by the lopsided wooden shelves shoved against the walls. "Where are we going?"

  "I'm taking you somewhere safe," he says tightly. "Then I'm going after Joel."

  Oh, hell no. Yanking my arm out of his grip, I twist away. "Excuse me? I'm terribly sorry you think I'm completely helpless."

  He takes a deep breath, mustering up patience like he always does when he thinks I'm being difficult. Me! Difficult!

  "Don't waste our time, Briar. I need you somewhere safe. You aren't helpless, but against someone like Joel..."

  You'll be in the way. That's all it is. That's all I am. Constantly in the way. All I want is to find Ruby and make sure she's okay, but I can't even do that, can I? My face burns with the humiliation of it all, but I refuse to let him lead me along like a five-year-old. When he reaches for me again I step back, turn, and fling open the door to stomp out.

  It opens up into a bigger room. An old warehouse cleared out decades ago. The windows are mostly boarded or barred. Glass and leaves and dirt litter the floor. This isn't possibly anywhere in Old Town; we've made it back to Downtown via the tunnels. Noah keeps at my back as we head inside.

  There is no warning. Just Joel coming out of the shadows like he's a part of them, knife raised. Before I can react, Noah slides his gun from its holster and throws me aside. I hit the ground with a grunt, twisting around in time to see Noah barely dodge the blade swiping so close to his throat that, for a second, I'm positive he's been cut.

  But I don't see or smell blood, so I exhale and roll to my feet. Noah's gun fires. The hollow building amplifies every sound ten-fold and I clamp my hands over my ears to fend it off. Joel darts away through the darkness, always an inch ahead of every bullet until Noah has to stop to reload.

  Where Joel comes to a stop across the building, I can barely make out his outline. Now is my chance, while he's distracted watching Noah. Thinking I'm not a threat. No sooner do I reach behind me for the gun than I realize...it isn't there.

  I distinctly remember it when we came into the room, aware of it digging uncomfortably into my flesh. Which means it's in here. Somewhere. I scan the floor and spot it against the nearby wall. Must have fallen out when I fell. If I make a dive for it, could I reach and fire it in time to do any good?

  "Ditching your friends, huh?" Joel says. "Honestly didn't expect that outta you."

  His eyes are on me now, burning into my skin. Despite the chill in the room, his stare makes me break into a cold sweat. "Where is Ruby?"

  "Here, there, everywhere." He shrugs, eyes darting to Noah. "This knife of yours has come in pretty handy, witch." Moonlight glints off of the blade. "I was really wonderin' how I was gonna get the upper hand with someone as old as Mav, but this did the trick."

  Noah seethes, every line and angle of his face and jaw tense. "Great. Now you can give it back."

  "What's the rush?" Joel tosses it from one hand to the other then holds it up, examining the intricate designs along the sides. "It's one a' them fancy things you witches use, all enchanted and shit. What's it called...a Winter weapon?" He must see the brief flash of shock across Noah's face, because he grins. "Heard the witch who makes ‘em rarely gives ‘em out. Would be a shame if this were to get, you know, misplaced."

  Noah's jaw clenches. He's trying to play it off like it doesn't bother him, but obviously that knife means something more than I thought it did. I want to throttle Joel. What if Ruby is already dead? What if all those vampires feeding from her was too much for her body to handle?

  "You can tell us where my sister is or I'm knocking that self-satisfied smirk off your fucking face."

  Joel's smile morphs into a scowl. "Neither of you got any manners."

  Before I can reply, a gunshot cracks between the fragments of our words, ending a discussion that never would have gone anywhere. Joel wrenches to one side, barely missing it, and he hisses at Noah. Another shot goes off. Joel lunges—not for Noah, but for me—while I dive for my gun. My fingers brush cool metal. Joel is on me.

  One of Noah's bullets dives into the wall above our heads and Joel grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me to my feet. He holds me in front of himself as we face Noah, the knife against my throat. His personal meat-shield.

  "Drop it," Joel rumbles. To Noah. Not to me.

  Which means he doesn't notice that I managed to grab my gun before he grabbed me. When I swallow, I feel the razor-sharp edge against my pulse-point.

  Noah aims for Joel's head, but he doesn't fire. All it would take is the slightest jerk of his hand and I'll be joining Artie, Alex, and Maverick on the list of vampires killed by this weapon. But how much does Noah care? How far can he be pushed before he decides it's worth it to get to Joel, even if it means killing me?

  Except Noah's expression flickers, torn. "Let her go."

  "Put down the gun," Joel says, "and I'll consider it."

  If Noah ditches his gun, Joel will likely slit my throat anyway and Noah knows it. I think fast.

  "You know, I don't blame you for being pissed off at my sister."

  Joel glances at me. Only briefly; he's not stupid enough to take his eyes off of Noah for long. "Say what?"

  "It makes sense," I continue. "You wanted her, but she was pissed that you forced her to become a vampire and she left. Must've been pretty hard for someone who always takes what he wants and doesn't let it get away."

  His entire body tenses. "Think you're so smart, princess," he murmurs, too close to my ear for comfort. The heat of his breath creeps down my neck. Ew. "For the short remainder of her miserable life, Ruby will remember who it was that gave her what she wanted."


  Noah is staring at me. I meet his eyes, finding solace there, keeping me clear-headed despite that my stomach is clawing its way up my throat. "What are you talking about?"

  Joel's lips draw back into a sneer. "I didn't turn her because I wanted her. I turned her because she begged me to."

  Something has sucked the air from my lungs. "You're lying." But why would he? What would be the point?

  "Nope. She was pretty organized 'bout the whole thing; even set up that bakery to look like a murder scene so y'all would think she was dead." He shrugs. "You can believe me or not, I don't give a shit."

  It isn't what he's saying that makes me feel like I've been punched in the gut. It's that, somewhere deep inside, I think it could totally be true. Even if I don't want to believe it. Why would Ruby do that to our family? To me?

  Staring into Noah's eyes and seeing the uncertainty there, I realize that he's known this all along. It's why he assumed I had chosen to be turned. He put too much stock in the idea that Ruby and I are anything alike.

  Another secret. Another lie. Had Noah tried to tell me any of this, though, I never would have believed him.

  But now, I think I have a pretty good idea where Joel is keeping Ruby.

  "What do you say, witch?" Joel nods. "Gonna put that thing down?"

  Slowly, Noah lowers his gun. He leans over to place it on the floor, and all the while his eyes never leave mine, like he's trying to tell me something. Reassure me. "Let her go, Joel. Let her out of this room, and you and I will finish this on our own. Even the playing field a bit."

  "What's the point in that? I want both a' you dead." He grins wide. I feel the bite of metal, knowing damned well I have about point-two seconds to do something before he carves my neck open like a stick of butter.

  I jab the barrel of the gun back at him, somewhere against his abdomen, and squeeze the trigger. Pray to all that is holy or amazing in this world that his hand doesn't spasm.

  It doesn't. His arms jerk away as his shriek is drowned by gunfire, giving me space and time to whirl out of his grasp. He reaches for me again, grabbing my arm, spinning me around. There's a flash of silver and a cold bite across my stomach before one of Noah's bullets takes Joel in the chest, pushing him back the half inch I need to get away.